Redempshun: An Orks' Story
by The Joe and Gromit Show
Summary: Nine Armies fight for one planet, and two orks are left with the responsibility to gather the boys together to free their homeland. But can they sober up to do it? By Joe & Gromit. Please R & R.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: If it's possible to sue us for it, then we don't know anything about it. We most certainly do not own it._

_-__**A Gromit & Joe Production. **_

_**Yes, both of us. Expect a big author's note.**_

_Joe: Just in case you haven't a clue what all the 'Joe' and 'Gromit' stuff is about, just click on our bio and find out, because we're not about to explain._

_Gromit: ……my socks are wet. It's weird, I mean, it's not like I've been stepping in puddles or anything…_

_Joe: That's just disgusting._

_Gromit (pouncing at Joe): EAT IT!!_

_(Attempts to force sock down Joe's throat)_

_Joe: You're right, that __is__ wet. Weird._

_Gromit: To the point, this is our first Warhammer 40'000 fic, so excuse us if we misuse some terms or don't know the name for some things. To be honest, we've only ever played the game 'Dawn of War', and not the table-top version. There was just too many, too many, __**rules**__…, and, and._

_Joe: Dices. Plus, it involved using loads of miniature figurines, and Gromit got completely overexcited and tried chewing on some of them._

_Gromit: You're confusing me with my dog_

_Joe: Meh, I'm okay with that._

_Gromit: Anyway, we only know of 9 races - the ones featured in 'Dawn of War' (Tau, Orks, Space Marines, Imperial Guard, Chaos, Necrons, Eldar, Dark Eldar, Sisters of Battle), and the units and stuff that were in the game._

_Joe: We're also going to introduce a reader-interactive aspect of the fic. You review and tell us which race we put in the next chapter - in other words, which army the main characters get involved with, and/or mock._

_Gromit: We think that's it. Hope yis enjoy. Oh, and I never made Joe swallow the sock, so don't worry._

_(Sounds of Joe gagging in background)_

_Gromit (nervously): Oh, don't mind that - heh, heh - that's just the sound the microwave makes when it's done._

_(Retching noises)_

_Gromit: NEVER SWALLOWED THE SOCKS._

* * *

_**Redempshun: An Orks' Story.**_

_Setting: The planet Hermes 6. An planet originally dominated by Orks. Now under assault by the Space Marine chapter known as the _Cynic Ravens, who_ find it their duty to cleanse the planet and restore it to the control of the Imperium of Man._

_This was the first real full-assed assault that successfully made any impact on the Ork's grasp on the planet. Previously, any attack on the planet was swiftly put down by the native Orks. But, now, that it was evident that the Orks __could__ be removed, the planet Hermes 6 came to the attention of all the major races of the universe._

_It became more than just a planet, but a symbol of power. The race who conquered Hermes 6 would prove their superiority over all others, and have a total excuse to be snooty in front of the other races._

_Not only that, the planet had many other qualities to it._

_Firstly, the planet was a bountiful source of resources - both mineral, organic, and pornographic. It even contained some previously undiscovered precious substances. The race who gained control of Hermes 6 gained a major asset to their war effort. The only disadvantage was that their soldiers would spend about half an hour extra in the toilets each day with the newfound…_resources.

_Secondly, unbeknownst to the Orks, deep under the planet's surface, lay the Necrons. Many millennia ago, the Necrontyr had populated the planet, and the planet Hermes 6 contained some of the primary Necrontyr civilizations. When the Necrontyr fell prey to the plots of the C'tan gods, the planet became one of their largest centres of activity. Destroying the Necropolis on Hermes 6 would deal a major blow to Necron powers across the universe, possibly even causing a chain reaction that would lead to the ultimate downfall of the Necrons permanently._

_Because of this, the entire Eldar Craftworld Junc'ki swarmed to the planet to rid the universe of the Necron threat for good. Then came the Dark Eldar army Squee-Misch Kabal, because they were just like that._

_Next came Chaos, because they were totally pissed with the Dark Eldar, seeing as they worshipped more or less the same Gods, and do the same stuff as Chaos does, and in the words of the Chaos Lord Karlrove of the 'Roarrrr Legion'; "I meaneth, dude, that's totally not cooleth. We were doing that stuff way before they even thoughteth of doing it. That's so gay. I mean, who __does__ that?……eth."_

_In swift succession to the Chaos legion came the Sull'kinng sept of the Tau Empire, who wished to prove their superiority to the other races, and the superiority of the Tau ideology of 'Peer Pressure' (Because they got bored of 'The Greater Good' ages ago)._

_The 21__st__ Cadian RESO__L division of the Imperial Guard, like an incompetent but enthusiastic little brother to the Space Marines, decided that they would tag along too, because they had nothing else to do. And, to be frank, they have no friends of their own._

_As they hated being left out, and because the authors couldn't really think of any proper reason for them to be present, the TransV Division of the Sisters of Battle (S.O.Bs) joined the fray._

* * *

And so our story (finally) begins several years before this conflict, during the initial years of the Space Marines war.

The Cynic Ravens were purging the mountainside near their newly established headquarters. The local Orks were for the most part unorganised, and were quickly exterminated.

News spread like…well…Orks, and the Orks quickly prepared themselves for a Waagh! Against the newcomers. The largest Ork on the planet was selected to be the new Warboss. Gigantork was not the most original of Ork names, in fact, there was already an Ork named Gigantork in existence beforehand, but the Orks felt that it would be a much cooler name for their Warboss, so they killed the Ork in question. So it was that Warboss Pee-pants became known as Warboss Gigantork. The Mek Boyz quickly fixed him up with a ridiculously large battle suit and recruitment for Gigantork's Waagh! Began.

Gigantork and an elite retinue went to the mountainside where the Cynic Ravens were slaughtering the local Orks.

Gigantork trampled along the mountain path alone. There had been a large confrontation with the Cynic Ravens stationed in the mountains, and the main base had been demolished. Now, however, was time to clean out the mountains of any survivors.

The ground sunk under the weight of his feet every time he made a step, making a decidedly annoying '_crunch_' sound, which did not help Gigantork's foul mood.

He was bored, tired, and, worst of all, sober. A rare commodity for Gigantork, and he did not like it the slightest.

He gritted his teeth as he plodded along, each '_crunch_' further worsening his mood.

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

"_AAAAARRRRGGHHH!"_

Gigantork paused, and looked down at the ground uncertainly. Even with his small mind it was common knowledge that it was not within the ground's capability to scream.

He looked around nervously. All he could see were the mountains; great edifices of granite, covered by a thick blanket of snow and ice. Over the Cliffside he could see treetops for miles on the ground. No Oomie base where the screams could have come from.

The sun was setting, painting the sky a bloody shade of crimson, a testament to the blood that had been shed.

Gigantork grinned.

He liked red. Red is pretty. Plus, red jeeps go faster than others.

He spotted a jagged hole in the face of the mountain wall. Just for a second, it had become illuminated by a flash from within.

Gigantork sped into it, boredom helping him forward (not to mention an unfamiliar control over his legs, due to the absence of alcohol in his system).

The further he went, the fresher the stench of blood became. Not just oomie blood, but Ork blood too.

He reached a large cavern after a few moments of sprinting.

He skidded to a halt. He could see two oomies conversing inside. Space Marine oomies. They were looking at two small yoofs - infant Orks.

"Well, these two put up a fight," said one of the marines, gesturing towards the pair of Ork corpses on the ground - presumably the yoof's parents.

Even in the dim light, Gigantork could see that one of the dead orks was Tufftoof, one of his top Nobz who lived in the region, who had gone off 'lucking for sumink' a while ago.

Gigantork clasped his oversized metallic claw in rage.

"Jeese, these are ugly things, aren't they?" the other marine said, looking at the yoofs.

There was a pause.

"Poke one of them," the first marine dared the other.

"I'm not gonna poke it, _you_ do it," retorted the other indignantly.

"Fine, I'll do it, if you're too _scared_-" taunted the first marine.

"No, no, no, I'll do it!" the second interjected.

He reached forward and prodded one of the yoofs, who looked at him with fright.

"Well, that wasn't so difficult," the marine said. Then he turned to his companion.

"Now you do it."

The other marine made a non-committed chuckle.

"Well, if _you_ can do it, then - AAAAAGGHHH! IT BIT ME!!" screamed the marine, waving his arm wildly for emphasis, the yoof clamped firmly on stubbornly "WHY DO THEY ALWAYS HATE _ME_?"

"Well, you're a jerk, for starts," the first one answered helpfully.

"Aha."

…

"…COULD YOU HELP ME?"

"ahhmm……yes, I suppose I could. Just hold still so I can shoot it."

The Marine raised his bolter and aimed at the yoof who, still clamped onto the other marine's hand, eyed him reproachfully.

Gigantork could stand it no longer. With a mighty 'WAAAAGH!!" he charged at the Space Marines before they knew what was happening. In his giant claws, he picked them both up (and took the yoof from the marine's hand, placing it softly on the ground and giving it an affirming pat on the head), he smashed the marines together with sufficient force to crush through their armour, blood gushing in excessive amounts from the fractured remains of their ribs, brains oozing out of their shattered helmets. He flung their bodies away brutally.

Exhaling heavily, he turned his attention to the two yoofs gawping at him, but both looking quite pleased at the entertainment he had provided. Both were covered in Space Marine blood, and one was sucking his claw experimentally.

Gigantork considered them. They were fairly large for regular yoofs: a promising trait that they would both grow to be good, large Nobz like their father (and Mother, but let's not get into that).

He would not let the yoofs of Tufftoof starve to death, and decided to bring them with him. He took his large customised Shootas from their holsters, and placed them gingerly by the corpses of Tufftoof and his mate. He then picked up the yoofs and inserted one into each holster.

He walked over to Tufftoof's corpse. With a grim expression, he closed Tufftoof's glazed eyes.

"Goodbye, Tufftoof," Gigantork announced "You'ze with Gork and Mork now."

As he exited the cavern, he unwittingly trod over Tufftoof's mates body, who was still staring at the cavern wall with eyes that did not see…(because, you see, she was _dead_)

* * *

The two yoofs flourished under Gigantork's care (or lack thereof), and, as per Gigantork's prediction, grew to be large, well respected orks.

One of the yoofs, who was named Fragnazz, proved to be exceptional at smashing things at close quarters, and developed a knack of using ridiculously large objects to do so. He was also a devoted Speed Freak, and, having stolen a "frycycle" (the Ork equivalent of a tricycle) from another yoof when he was younger, now claimed to be a proficient - no, an '_excelunt'_ driver, of any vehicle that was in question.

Fragnazz was an incredibly orky ork by ork standards, as he was really, really big, and, in his own words was 'one of the fightiest orks there is'. He was an ork with less hair than usual, which for some reason took to the form of stubble around his jaw. Nobody knows why. Least of all Fragnazz. He wore the mud coloured pants and red jacket as all orks involved in the war on Hermes 6 were required to. Having once been left alone with a permanent marker in his yoof had caused Fragnazz to sport a tattoo on his left upper bicep of a large angry face - which, coincidentally, became the symbol of Gigantork's Waagh! Lucky for him, since he now had a much shorter explanation for the tattoo than he previously had. On his shoulders he strapped shoulder pads adorned with spikes - on which things often became stuck on. He also liked to keep a large sheet of slightly rusted iron on his front as chest armour, and Fragnazz refused to go to sleep without it.

It's name was Blankee.

Fragnazz's primary weapon was like no other. He had obtained a large club that he had once adored, but improved it, rather accidentally (whether he admits it or not), by smacking the smouldering remains of a crashed Fighta-Bomba with his club. The club had become jammed into the misshapen mass of jagged metal. With tremendous strength, Fragnazz had pulled the club free, but with a large amount of malformed metal at the end of the club. Parts of the engine of the plane remained inside, along with an exhaust pipe that occasionally emitted puffs of smoke.

Fragnazz's brother became known as KrakShot, due to his prodigious skill with a shoota. Gigantork quickly realised this and arranged for KrakShot to be trained by the foremost Flash Gitz and Shoota Boyz in the Waagh! Because of this, not only did KrakShot have amazing ability with firearms, but he had excellent orky manners, since the Flash Gitz regarded manners as highly important. KrakShot did not say "Do this Or I'll thump yew," but rather, said "Do this or I'll thump yer…please"

KrakShot was a lighter shade of green than most orks, and delighted in customising his custom shoota, bestowed upon him by the Flash Gitz.. He wore the uniform colours of Gigantork's Waagh! KrakShot also wore an armour plate jammed on the front of his jacket, along with several bandoliers on his chest, none of which were compatible with his shoota. He just liked the look of them. His eyes glowed exceptionally red, coinciding with his tremendous knack for sniping. On his head was a dark blue bandanna. KrakShot was a devoted member of the ork AA on Hermes 6 - alcoholics allowed, of course. He would attend these meetings to boast about the amount of alcohol he consumes. That's basically what the ork version of the AA is.

When the war on Hermes 6 escalated to host 9 armies, and when the Orks had been driven to the southernmost continent of the planet, did the two really stand out to be two of the greatest killaz in the Ork's army.

* * *

There was ceaseless noise at the gargantuan battle taking place.

The hiss of a Guardsman's lasgun, the _dakka_ of an ork's shoota, the _zzap_ of a Necron's gauss flayer, the bang of a Space Marine's bolter, the pulse of a Fire Warriors plasma rifle, the sizzle of a Warp Spider's firearms…the "pew, pew - gotcha!" of a chaos space marine with no gun, who was pointing his fingers at the other warriors with gusto.

He had misplaced his weapon, and had nothing better to do.

All of these contributed to the endless din of war raged between every faction stationed on Hermes 6. It was situated in the city in the exact centre of the planet, and all of the races wanted it. Every warrior was fighting his/her best to gain control of the city, trying to the best of their abilities to win this decisive battle.

But, two such warriors were enjoying themselves immensely.

Corpses were starting to form a pile at a set radius from Krakshot, who was mowing the enemy down with uninhibited delight, as his custom shoota churned out empty magazines that had already built a mound at his feet that had reached the level of his knees. He noticed a Chaos Defiler throwing a tantrum upon several nearby orks.

"Who'z de fightiest?" he called out.

His brother Fragnazz, from his previous position, pounced into the vicinity of the Defiler. With his large weapon, he smacked the Defiler on the possessed head, knocking it straight off. The body of the Defiler groped their air where it's head had previously been in panicked disarray. It continued moving, but it no longer could see where it was going. This led it to stampede recklessly into a large group of Chaos space marines, who were trampled beneath it's flailing metallic limbs.

"_I _is the fightiest!" Fragnazz roared in cheery response.

Fragnazz noticed a large group of Dark Eldar mandrakes charging in their direction.

"Who'z the shootiest?" he called out.

Grinning broadly, Krakshot aimed and fired rapidly, both barrels of his custom shoota blaring.

All but one of the Mandrakes were shot down. The last of which smirked at Krakshot, having evaded his fire. Krakshot shot him in the chest. The Mandrake stumbled about dramatically, then successfully vomited half of his stomach onto the body of one of his comrades. He glanced at it with interest, then collapsed.

"_I_ is the shootiest!" Krakshot bellowed with pride.

The battle raged on like this, all sides suffering horribly. But, soon, eventually, it seemed that the orks were coming out on top. Several armies had already began to fall back. The Craftworld Junc'ki left first, requiring their fix. As the Farseer Cra'khoe put it: "…uhh…my head hurts…uhh…uhh…I'm having a mini freak-out here… I - I'm starting to see all monsters and robots and all that shooting each other…ugh, I just wanna go home……dude, does anybody notice how funny my hand loo- oof! Hah! Did you guys see that?! I just totally fell over…ohm, I'm bleeding…doesn't hurt, though".

The Eldar had to carry their Farseer back on a stretcher, who was mumbling incoherent things on the subject of how funny her hand looked.

The armies that were still in the battle were now focused on a point in the city centre.

Gigantork roared a mighty war cry, his prey at his feet trembling. He had cornered it at the statue at the city plaza.

His prey just so happened to be Force Commander Noitall of the Cynic Ravens.

He grinned maliciously at Noitall, and raised the poor commander's own Daemonhammer high, ready to smack it down hard onto the marine's skull.

"Any last wordz, oomie?" cackled Gigantork.

Noitall retained a collected expression and answered calmly;

"Just one, greenskin: _fire_."

Gigantork blinked once before there was a loud _bang_ and he saw with dreamlike interest that there was blood leaking out from a gaping hole in his chest that had not been there a moment before.

He keeled over backwards and roared as he fell.

The nearby orks were held in spot in terror.

"The boss's _dead_!" wailed a slugga boy.

The cry was taken up by the orks around him who repeated the same words.

"He's _dead_!"

"_Dead_!"

"Not Gigantork!"

"Dead…"

…

"…what?"

"The boss, he's dead."

"Oh. That's…kinda bad."

An ork who was close to the corpse turned tail and fled.

Another followed suit. Then, one by one, the rest of the orks decided to 'leg it', all in different directions.

Noitall regarded the dieing ork in front of him with a superior smirk, then turned his back on it.

"That's enough for now, battle brothers," he announced "Return to base camp."

So it was that the space marines departed.

The only two orks remaining were the two who were approaching the corpse slowly.

Krakshot and Fragnazz stared at Gigantork's still form. He was still inhaling raggedly.

"Boyz…" he croaked weakly. The brothers kneeled at his side.

"You'ze got to stand up, boss," Fragnazz said to him.

"Can't…" Gigantork responded "…too drunk."

"Don't yew worry, we'ze gonna get yew help, boss," Krakshot stated optimistically.

"Haven't got de time," Gigantork responded "…yew two…yew'ze got to get da boyz togevver…da orks haff to have a boss…"

"Waddaya sayin?" Fragnazz asked "Yew'ze always been da boss."

"Yew two'ze gotta be da bosses now," Gigantork said as he coughed up blood.

The brothers exchanged grim looks.

"One more thing, boyz…" Gigantork announced with an air of finality, his voice becoming steadily quieter "…be careful wid summa da boyz…not alla da boyz can be trusted…"

Gigantork feebly raised his un-mechanised claw and pulled a chunk of metal from his wound. He glanced at it and said:

"An orky bullet…"

Then, his eyes misted and his claw fell to his chest.

Fragnazz closed his eyes and roared to the sky;

"NOOOOOOOOO - ack!"

A round from a Guardsman's lasgun interrupted his dramatic scream.

Krakshot turned angrily around at the Guardsman in question.

"Do yew mind?! We'ze having a dramatic moment!"

The Guardsman muttered something in apology, scuffling his feet along the ground.

Krakshot turned back to his brother.

"Anywayz?"

"Thankz," Fragnazz said, then took in a deep breath and shouted pitifully "…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" to the setting sun, which was staining the sky Gigantork's favourite shade of red.

* * *

_Joe: Well, what do you think? We hope it wasn't desperately bad._

_Gromit: Then again, I'm obscenely tired right now, and not entirely sure what I'm saying are actually words, so it probably was._

_Joe: Well, review and let us know._

_Ciao._

_Meow._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: We have neither taken anything that's copyrighted, nor are we drunk. Now, excuse me, I have to crap. _

_Joe: Right, while he's gone, I'll fill in the author's notes. To the point; we now know about the whole orks being semi-fungoid thing, but, since we've started off this way, it'll be inconsistent with the plot to change it. Thanks for the pointers, though._

_Gromit: The toilet won't flush._

_Joe: You're back...well, what did you eat?_

_Gromit: Ehh...a spark plug and a roofing tile._

_Joe: ...no, that sounds about right...Hang, on, STOP!_

_Gromit: What?_

_Joe: We've been doing this for ages; putting crap and nonsense in our author's notes. It's wasting people's time, and, to be honest, it's not that funny._

_Gromit: Okay. Yeah, like I care._

_Joe: You're crying._

_Gromit: LEAVE ME ALONE...AHUHUHUHUUHHHHHH..._

_Joe: Ehm, anyway, onwards with the fic!...Gromit, come on..._

_Gromit: You _beast_!_

* * *

_**Ch2: Of Red Wunz and Old Fellaz**_

Two large orks could be seen stalking along a marshy lane, flanked by rather drippy-looking trees, native to the southern marshlands of Hermes 6.

To be frank, they couldn't really be seen that well, their green skin blending in with their background. Also, they weren't stalking.

They _thought_ they were stalking, but really they were making enough noise to wake a small pebble.

In the distance, they could see the large orky fort that was the dominant feature of the land.

It was a massive edifice of steadily rusting corrugated iron, painted with splashes of red and black, covered top to bottom with grot-manned fortifications. Sharpened stakes protruded in random intervals from the misshapen walls. Everywhere in general, in large, bold white letters, was the word "WAAAGH!" . Even on the small pebble, who was really getting frustrated at this stage. Outside the walls lay the hulking masses of badly constructed ork war vehicles and looted tanks, and the land was dotted with several squig farms. Inside the walls of the fort were countless chambers, shops, and bars where the host orks entertained themselves daily.

The whole thing had been put together in roughly half a minute plus nap break, and all the orks were extremely pleased with it.

Fragnazz and Krakshot stopped when they reached the outer walls, to listen for any yells, shouts, and assorted nonsense that were usually audible for miles around.

Their absence was an omen to the two orks, who were neither knew nor cared about silence, and did not care for it when it appeared. Plus, the fortifications contained no Gretchin.

Both Fragnazz and Krakshot despised Grots. Grots gave them something to complain about. But, Fragnazz and Krakshot liked to complain. But, there were no Grots anymore.

Therefore, there was a problem.

The two orks walked slowly into the compound, worried by the fact that they did not meet any guards at the entrance.

They looked around, and it seemed that the compound was now a ghost town. Fragnazz and Krakshot had never seen a ghost, and were intrigued, but they figured that they would not like a ghost when they saw one. Besides, they only liked green things, and red things. And ghosts were white. Who did they think they were, the French?

The two strolled around, looking for any ork that was left. Whether the orks were dead or just simply missing, neither knew. The continued absence of the other orks ate away at their insides like a squig they forgot to kill before eating. You'd be surprised how often that happened. But, even so, it was no less unpleasant.

They continued up to Gigantork's private compounds. Still, there was nobody there.

"They'ze all gone," Krakshot pointed out, rather unnecessarily "No-wunz left, sept us."

With sudden, inexplicable rage, Fragnazz threw his club away from him with all his might. The club went right through a nearby window.

There was a pause.

"...I needz that," Fragnazz grumbled to himself, then he walked up to the building to retrieve his weapon.

That building just so happened to be Kuikficks' Mek Shop, the oldest Mek in the warband.

Fragnazz entered and spied his club, right above a bitterly cursing ork who was trying to lift the tremendous weapon off himself.

"Hey, look!" Fragnazz exclaimed loudly, outside to his brother "I'ze found some-wun!"

Krakshot ran in.

"Where?" Krakshot asked excitedly as he entered.

Fragnazz shuffled his feet.

"Roight...roight unda my club..." he murmured, mostly to himself, then, with renewed vigour, queired loudly to the ork "Wotz yew doin' unda my club? Dat's a stupid place to be, that is! Why'd yew climb unda _there_?"

"Yew could've been 'urt!" Fragnazz interjected sagely "It'z always fun an' gamez until somebody get'z crushed by an enormous piece of flying metal."

Fragnazz lifted the club of the poor ork, then examined it fearfully.

"Yew'z _scratched_ it!" he roared indignantly to the ork, who was rising to his feet.

He thrust the weapon right under the ork's nose.

"Kiss it betta," he ordered snootily.

Krakshot, realising the danger that this ork was in for in some way harming Fragnazz's weapon, seized a nearby can of red paint and poured it over the weapon, immediately rectifying the damage.

"Yew'z welcome," Krakshot stated to him politely.

Fragnazz then eyed the ork, who was in truth only half an ork, the other half being metal which jutted out min random intervals, with bits that flashed and whirred in a most unnecessary fashion. In fact, why any ork would attack half a washing machine and a kitchen sink to himself was beyond Fragnazz. All the light bulbs and cuckoo clocks that were also there he could understand, but the washing appliances...

Fragnazz didn't like to wash.

Then, Krakshot realised who this cybork was – not a hard thing to do, seeing as he was the only ork with aforementioned washing utensils attached to himself.

"Yew'z Kuikficks!" he announced with newfound respect "Yew customized my shoota!"

Kuikficks sniffed pompously at Krakshot, then nodded.

"Yup. Yew'ze dose two orks dat Gigantork raised, aint ya?"

The two orks, in response, demonstrated their two signature abilities. Krakshot fired a round from his custom shoota, hitting a discarded can behind his back without turning to look.

Fragnazz hit Kuikficks with his club.

"Oh, em, roight. Yeah, we are."

Kuikficks climbed back to his feet, grumbling.

"Yeah, I suppose yew'z are. Well, anywayz-"

He silenced as Fragnazz smashed him with his club again.

"I get'z da picture!" Kuikficks roared angrily at him.

Fragnazz raised his club again hopefully. Kraskhot shook his head at him.

"Aww." Fragnazz mumbled crankily.

"Is yew da only wun left?" Krakshot asked him.

Kuikficks sighed.

"Yeah. Not even any Grots around no more. Dey'ze all gone."

"Gone?" Fragnazz butted in "Yew mean, they'ze not all dead?"

"Dead? No, no, da orks is never beaten in battle," Kuikficks replied, a patriotic glint in his eye.

"Wha' bout yesterday?" Fragnazz asked.

"Shut up!" Kuikficks retaliated angrily, brandishing a sponge from the sink where his shoulder originally was. Fragnazz recoiled in terror.

"So den, where has they all gone?" Krakshot inquired, allowing a short pause for Kuikficks to catch a breath from his uninhibited fury.

"Da boyz...well, dey all goes their sep'rate wayz. See, wen Gigantork was around, all da clanz had to get along, but now...well, dey'ze got no reason to be palz..."

"Waddaya mean?" Krakshot pressed him.

"Well, yew two wouldn't know, cos yew two was yoofs wen Gigantork first came inta powa. Before dat, all da clanz had dey differences. Like, all da Blood Axes, da Goffs, da Deathskulls, all dose, loik, all dey had to get along under Gigantork. Now, ders no Gigantork. So, dey'ze all gone dey different wayz."

"Well, da boss, before he died, told us to bring da boyz togevva," Fragnazz announced proudly "We'ze gonna go out, bring da boyz togevva, den kill all uv our enemies!"

"Revenge," Kuikficks stated, a proud glint in his eye.

Fragnazz glared at him.

"Yew just ruined my whole speech. I was still talking!" he turned to his brother "Did yew see, I was talking, and then he just-"

"Interrupted yew, yeah," Krakshot added, wiggling a finger at Kuikficks critically "Dat waz very impolite."

"I'ze sorry," Kuikficks apologised.

There was a silence for a while, where Kuikficks stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Okay...okay..."

Suddenly, his eyes gleamed fanatically.

"Roight...well, I'ze got sumink for yew'ze two...been working in diz for five years...da ultimate battle-tank..."

He plodded along to the back of his Mek Shop, where there was a long red curtain. Kuikficks pulled it across, revealing a beautifully crafted, pristinely smooth, needlessly large and shiny black battle-tank.

"She'z got sixteen heavy machine gunz, four proton lazerz, a hunderd-and-fifteen-bore cannon, and fourteen rokkit launchers, each capable of blasting frew a concrete wall four metres fick no problem, and a global positioning devoiyiz...and pimped rimz" he added, pointed towards the shiny treads.

Both orks gasped in amazement as the rims spun.

"Fo' sho, homie" Kuikficks finished.

There was an impressive silence as the black tank sparkled luxuriously.

"Wotz dat?" Krakshot asked, pointing towards a depressingly smaller vehicle.

"Wotz, dat?" Kuikficks answered distractedly, waving his hand derisively "Dat'z just an old warbike."

"But it'z red," Fragnazz pointed out delightedly.

"It'z got square wheelz," Kuikficks replied reasonably.

"But it'z _red_," Krakshot said, equally reasonably.

"Look, I cud paint the tank red," Kuikficks compensated worriedly "It'd only take a couple've hours, at most and-"

"No, no, we'ze gonna take da bike," Fragnazz reassured "Da tankz loverly an' all dat, but...it'ze just...it'ze just...I dunno, wot'ze da roight wordz..."

"It'ze not red," Krakshot commented helpfully.

"Yeah!" Fragnazz said brightly in agreement "Dat'ze it, it'ze not red!"

Kuikficks' shoulders sank.

"Oh, alroight," he mumbled, crestfallen, and then followed the two to the old warbike.

"So, wot'ze so speshul about dis here warbike?" Fragnazz asked him curiously.

Kuikficks gave an exasperated sigh.

"Der'ze nuffink speshul about it. I still fink dat yew shud take da tank."

"Der haz to be _sumfink_ speshul about dis," Krakshot stated "Yew don't make fings dat don't."

"Well, it'ze red," Kuikficks answered.

"We'll take it!" Fragnazz exclaimed.

* * *

Dark smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe of the warbike as it zoomed along at a ridiculous speed, Fragnazz at the handlebars, mouth gaping wide open and tongue flapping cheerily out with the pure excitement and adrenaline.

Krakshot was seated comfortably in the sidecar that Kuikficks had added to the aging vehicle. A vast, mounted belt-fed shoota was fixed to the front of the sidecar, the ammunition flowing into the sidecar, into an ammo box within the sidecar capable of holding 12'000 rounds.

Kuikficks had only grudgingly given the two orks the frankly dilapidated warbike, but had spent several hours customising it for them anyway.

He had added; rocket boostaz, GPS, wheels, the sidecar and shoota, hydraulics, painted flames on the sides for Fragnazz's endless bewilderment as he wondered how the bike never got any hotter, and fluffy ornamental dice. However, they were pink, and if it were possible to remove them, the brothers would already have ripped it to shreds, but it wasn't. The warbike had been given an engine looted from grand Imperial stores, which recharged itself every time it halted.

It, too, had pimped rims.

Flies were inadvertently buzzing into Fragnazz's gaping mouth. Fragnazz did not take the slightest of notice, even when he could no longer breath due to his mouth being crammed with the squirming insects.

Eventually, he chewed, then gulped, and resumed with his lifelong habit of breathing.

Feeling ecstatic from the ownership of their new warbike, both started to laugh.

Fragnazz picked up speed to as fast as the bike would go, until the wind racing into his face stung. Krakshot began to fire round after round at the surrounding countryside at everything that moved, and most things that didn't.

They bumped over a particular pebble with 'WAAAGH!!" written crudely on it, sending it flying into a ditch.

However, attaining the warbike had distracted the pair from their goal. Krakshot frowned, and tapped his brother roughly on the shoulder.

Fragnazz slammed his foot on the brakes. The bike performed a 360 degree spin before landing neatly on all three wheels.

There was a small silence.

"Ehhm," Krakshot began hesitantly "Where'z we going?"

Fragnazz guffawed arrogantly.

"Hah! You don't know where we'ze going? We'ze going…" he abruptly cut himself short.

"Ehhm…we'ze going………oh."

"…yeah."

"We shud prob'ly go back an ask fer direcshuns."

"Ehh…we'ze not going t'look stupid, is we?"

"No…no, Kuikficks'll be all understanding like."

(Shortly Later)

"By Mork, yew boyz, yew boyz is just…I don't understand you'ze, you'ze just stupid!" Kuikficks "Yew'ze going to da humie camp datz just a couple of kilo-meetahs away."

"Oh. Fanks." Krakshot replied politely "Oh, and, uhm…can we'ze sum more bulletz?"

"Wot? I gave yew 12'000 roundz!"

"I know…I kind of used 'em all."

"On wot?" Kuikficks replied impatiently, then went to look outside to inspect the amount of rounds missing from the warbike.

Kuikficks jaw dropped at the scene of carnage that lay before him.

Various wildlife lay dead for miles around, tire tracks on their bodies, their skulls riddles with bullets. Several trees were bent to a 90 degree angle, bullet holes all over them. The absence of buzzards at the corpses surprised Kuikficks, until he noticed that they too were lying dead on the ground.

"Eh, sorry…we got a bit carried away," Krakshot mumbled.

* * *

As the full midnight moon shined brightly down on the two orks, they assembled their camp for the night. They had made a lot of progress, and the Imperial Guard's main base was only a couple of miles away. They would deal with it tomorrow

To be frank, all the orks needed was the campfire they started.

Krakshot lay down, arms stretched behind his head, his snazzgun lay on his chest.

Fragnazz yawned loudly and gave Blankee an extra hug before laying down to sleep.  
Both orks were almost asleep when Krakshot rolled over and spoke to his brother;

"Oh yeah…I'ze da shootiest."

Fragnazz grunted and nodded slowly.

"…an I'ze da fightiest."

Both brothers yawned happily, then said quietly;

"Yeah…"

* * *

_Gromit: Well, that's it for now._

_Joe: We'ze gonna be aways fer a wile……shit, I'ze stuck._

_(Gromit whacks Joe around the head)_

_Gromit: Better?_

_Joe: Yes, why thank you Gromit. Oh, and if you don't review, we're going to kill you._

_Gromit: Are death threats allowed on Fanfiction?_

_Joe: Actually, I don't think so……well, at least they know we were joking, right? (Elbows Gromit violently in the stomach). Right? Ha ha ha ha ha……._

_Gromit: Yeah…ha._

_Joe: The point is, review._

_Meow.  
Ciao._

_  
Fish._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Well...we own...a watch... – a nice watch...and, and...not much else to be honest..._

_Gromit: Oh, oh! And I have some zippo lighter fuel!_

_Joe: And that...that's pretty much it. We don't even own Warhammer or anything like that. Or anything else that's already copyrighted._

_Joe: Not much to be said. So we'll just get on with it. Anything to add, Gromit?_

_Gromit: So...where do you think the economy is going? _

_Joe: Hmm. It can only really go __up__..._

_Gromit: Hmm. I dunno, I think there's still room for disimprovement...So. Yah, I think...hmm...I think I need to go to the bathroom...didn't I just go a while ago?...Ahh! I need beer._

_Joe: Yes, it would probably make this chapter a lot more interesting if we got some. Oh, right, yeah, the chapter..._

_Gromit: What's that you're drinking? _

_Joe: Oh, this? I'm not quite sure. It's actually amazing! I mean, it _looks_ like coke, but it tastes like... (Smacks lips experimentally) porn._

_Gromit: What?! How could a drink _possibly_ taste like _porn_?_

_(Joe hands it over)_

_Gromit: (takes sip) hmm...yes! That is _bizarre!_ I mean, I've never tasted porn before in my life, but instinctively...you can just tell. You know, we should patent this and sell it._

_Joe: Nah, it's already copyrighted._

_Gromit: Oh, really? What's it called?_

_Joe: Pepsi._

* * *

_**Redempshun: An Orks' Story**_

_**Chapter 3: Goin' Kommando**_

The orks awoke at the crack of noon. They had previously woken up at dawn, but had decided that they were far too tired to get up. Besides, the 'humies' would be expecting an attack at dawn.

The orks left their warbike behind, as they hoped to go 'all sneaky like' towards the Imperial Guard base.

They trekked along the forest, snapping any branches, twigs, and squirrels that happened to cross their path.

Several of the nearby wildlife went under cardiac arrests due to the noise, including a small rock.

Soon, they approached an imperial guard outpost, which consisted of nothing more than what looked like a security guard's station, manned by a single guardsman, who happened to be lying with his feet up on the desk, a cup of coffee in his hands, and a radio by his feet blaring. His head bobbed up and down with the music.

The two orks tiptoed past the outpost as sneakily as they could. This involved them stomping about the place, although they raised their hands slightly into the air to give the impression that they were at least _trying_ to be quiet.

Fragnazz accidentally trod on Krakshot's foot, causing Krakshot to roar loudly in bemusement and slight pain.

Krakshot responded by giving Fragnazz a push that forced him to collide with a bunch of trash cans that were situated just outside the guardroom.

This of course made a tremendous clatter, causing the Guardsman to look up irritably.

A bin lid rolled up to his foot via the open door.

Both Orks froze on the spot, as though hoping that the Guardsman's vision was based on movement, like the common redneck.

The Guardsman scowled at them, then, without looking away, turned up the volume pointedly on the radio, then resumed bobbing his head to the music.

The orks exchanged delighted glances, both feeling that they outmanoeuvred the inferior humie guard.

Suddenly, an orky voice from somewhere in the trees called out, catching them by surprise.

"Yew callz dat stelf action? Why, my _grot_ can be more stelffy dan yew'ze two!"

The two orks exchanged outraged and offended glances.

There was what sounded like gibbering from the trees.

"I'ze sorry...dat waz uncalled for..."

"Yew..." Krakshot announced slowly "...yew said dat we'ze worse dan a _grot_...datz a bit mean..."

"I said I waz sorry!" the voice replied, and the ork slipped from the tree into the open.

The ork in question was a lot smaller than the two orks, but still gave off an aura of intense danger, as though his shiny red eyes were a warning. He had tattooed his visible skin with black stripes, reminiscent of a tiger. He was dressed in a green t-shirt, with camouflage pattern trousers, and black boots. A belt of knives looped diagonally around his chest. Leather pads were at his shoulders, and a silenced shoota was holstered at his hip.

Fragnazz recognised him at once.

"Yew'ze Bokfist the big!" he hollered in delight and awe.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"No I'ze not," the ork replied.

"Oh..." Fragnazz mumbled disappointedly "Den, wot iz yer name, den? My name'z Fragnazz, an' dis here is Krakshot."

"I'ze Kutfroat, and dis 'ere iz Spankinz."

A small dark green and rather weedy looking grot clambered up onto one of Kutfroat's shoulder pads.

"Why'ze e called Spankinz?" Krakshot inquired with interest.

In response, he swung a fist into Spankinz's face, knocking him out of sight.

"Ohhh, right...so...why'd dey call yew Kutfroat?"

"Kut-froat?" the ork repeated slowly, in explanation, and gesturing with a knife.

The two orks considered this for a moment, then shook their heads in bemused confusion.

"Tink about it," Kutfroat suggested helpfully "Cos I cut –" he gestured a cutting motion with a knife " – people's froat's –" he gestured slashing somebody's throat, and then made a helpful splattering noise as the invisible victim's blood spurted out uncontrollably.

"Oh!" Krakshot realised "Kutfroat" I get it! Cos yew cut people's _froats_! Yew'ze a kommando, den?"

The ork nodded with pride.

"Yup. I wuz da old kommando Nob."

"So, den yer boyz wud still be wit yew," Krakshot deduced with a toothy grin.

"Yup. My kommandos, and a couple of sluggas who don't know where dey'ze at."

Krakshot gave Fragnazz a meaningful glance.

"Roight. Cos, we needz yer help..."

* * *

Krakshot explained the mission that Gigantork had assigned them to Kutfroat.

Kutfroat, realising the importance of the mission, agreed wholeheartedly to help, and brought the two back to his makeshift base, where his boyz all camped out.

It was there that they started to devise a plan – one to take the Imperial Guard out of the conflict of the nine armies.

The three were standing by a large, crude, ork-composed map of the area. One could tell that it was an ork map, as the majority of the map was obscured by the drawing of a large angry face with a toothy grin.

"I know'ze dis base well," Kutfroat informed them, pointing towards the big drawing of a guardsman with flies around him on the map (because the Guardsman is smelly, you see), which signified the Imperial Guard's stronghold.

"Breakin' in will be pretty tuff, but it won't be impossibull. Der's one major weakness –"

"Dey'ze humies, an' we'ze orks?" Fragnazz offered helpfully.

Kutfroat looked at him silently for about a minute, then resumed.

"Anywayz, derz one major weakness. Yew see, wen dey built dis base, dey didn't plan it very well. The outer wallz are very tuff, yeah, but it means dat dey can't expand der base, no room. Dey also forgot to plan where the Baneblade productshun facilities go in da base – so, dey had to pout dem _outside_ of dem wallz. Da Baneblade base is pretty well defended – but not as well as da base. If we can loot a Baneblade, some of our boyz can get inside da base – da humies won't suspect anyfing - until it's far too late. Da boyz inside can turn of da defences, an' den da rest of us can come in!"

There was silence for a while, as Kutfroat beamed, delighted with himself, and Krakshot considered the plan carefully, and Fragnazz amused himself by chewing the floor mat.

"It just might work," Krakshot stated, grinning evilly.

"Wot just might work?" Fragnazz inquired with interest.

* * *

Across from the Imperial road, there was a supply route, a dirt road, and on the opposite side of the road was a bank, covered by foliage, as it was the outskirts of the forest. That was where the orks were hiding, inspecting the base.

"Right...we'ze all okay wit da plan?" Kutfroat inquired of everybody.

"Wot plan?" Fragnazz asked again, having received no answer last time.

Kutfroat sighed, then repeated the plan.

"Right...well, der's gonna be a patrol along dis ere road, see? So, about, ten of us will go all sneaky like, down der, unda da cover of dose bushes on da udder side of da road. Da patrol will come along, and da boyz over der will make a crow noise – twize, so we don't mistake dem for a real crow – den, once we reports we'ze ready wid a reply of crow callz, group one will rise up onto the road, all stelffy like, then open fire. Da guards will be distracted, an' group two will move behind 'em wile dey'ze occupied wid group one. Dat'll catch 'im in a pincer move. If dey tries to call fer back-up, one uf da boyz'll use an EMP grenade to mess up der...talky fings. Split second timing's required, dis'll all have to be done wid deadly precishun.."

As Kutfroat finished, two Kasrkin commandos were walking along the road, deep in conversation, and seemed to be arguing.

"...all I'm saying, is that there was no _proof_!" the first soldier said reasonably.

"There was all the proof that was needed!" the second responded hotly "You Democrats are all the same!"

"_What_ proof?! We just all decided to agree with the Emperor when he said that there were weapons of mass destruction in the warp! How can you be so blind?"

"Blind? You're the blind one, because they actually _found_ parts necessary to build the WMDs!"

"They could have been building anything else! Besides, is the Emperor the only person allowed to have WMDs?"

"They're a _deterrent_, dammit, the only reason we haven't been attacked ourselves with WMDs yet is because the enemy knows we have a counter-threat!"

"Okay, okay," sighed the first Kasrkin "We'll just agree to disagree."

"Fine by me."

"Hang on," Fragnazz whispered "I'ze got anudder plan...can't remember yours, anywayz."

Fragnazz placed his hand onto his nose and said in a perfect, grammatically correct British accent (it exists):

"Well, _I_ don't think that the Emperor should be in power at all! Those elections were fixed!"

The republican Kasrkin turned angrily to the other.

"Don't start that again!" he roared at the other, sparking the argument back up.

"Look, there were _no_ WMDs in the warp, why can't the Emperor just _admit_ that he was _wrong_!"

"Maybe YOU'RE wrong!" the Republican Kasrkin roared, raising his lasgun.

"I'm _NEVER_ wrong!" screamed the Democrat Kasrkin, raising his own lasgun in retaliation.

They stared at each other for a while, breathing heavily. After a while, they appeared to be calming down, and looked away from each other, when Fragnazz stated pompously in the British accent:

"You don't have the _guts_ to pull the trigger, you smelly little man!"

In perfect unison, the two Kasrkin commandos turned round and promptly blew each other's brains out.

"Well..." Kutfroat said "...dat workz too..."

"Nuffink like politics to start a deadly argument?" Fragnazz stated proudly "...except, of course, Monorkpoly."

"Anywayz, we'ze got to attack da Baneblade base now. Wen we duz dat, we needz sum volunteers to drive da Baneblade into da main base."

Fragnazz and Krakshot raised their hands in the air, hopping slightly into the air with excitement, one arm holding the other up.

"Anybody else?" Kutfroat queried desperately.

The other orks remained silent.

"Okay, yew two'ze da only one'ze dat wantz to do it, so it'll just be da two of yew. S'dat alright?"

The two orks nodded eagerly.

The Baneblade outpost was disappointingly small. There were only the production buildings, and one guardhouse, which were occupied by two stoned-looking guardsmen.

There were several unmanned Baneblade around the place, but they only needed one.

One of the guards in the station looked out the window, and observed the orks with mild amusement, as if they were a movie he had already recently seen, but of which he was rather fond of.

"Oh, look," he stated to his friend "There are a bunch of Orks here."

"Oh, really?" the other replied brightly "What are they doing?"

"They're...taking a Baneblade, by the looks of it."

"Hmm. We should probably try and stop them."

"Yes, we should!" the other replied, standing up from his chair.

The other merely nodded towards the small television on the desk.

"Emmm...the X files are on."

"Oh, after the X files of course!" the Guardsman announced, then sat back down while the other Guardsman turned up the volume on the TV.

It wasn't long before a Commissar stormed into the room, his face red with rage.

"_WHAT _do you think you are_ DOING?!" _he bellowed in unbounded rage, his large hat askew "I just counted five – SIX – orks infiltrating our base – and it looks like they're going to try and take a Baneblade! With that, they can punch through into our main base!"

The two Guardsmen exchanged intimidated glances. One answered as he shook slightly, his voice quavering.

"The...the X files are on?"

The Commissar filled with delight.

"The X files you say? Which one?"

"The first one. The pilot."

"Oooooohhh!" the Commissar squealed, clapping his hands together "I've been meaning to see that one, but I never got a chance. I say, boy, scooch and give your commanding officer a seat."

"Yes, sir!" one replied, standing smartly to attention as the Commissar sat down.

"AND SOMEBODY BRING ME SOME POPCORN!" the Commissar screamed, returning to his usual self.

_Outside:_

The orks inspected the various mega-tanks assorted around the place, wondering which one to hijack.

"I know!" Krakshot exclaimed, pointing towards one of the tanks "We'ze gonna take dat one!"

"Dat one?" Kutfroat pondered "You'ze joking, right?"

'Dat one' just so happened to be the only Baneblade painted in snow camouflage.

"But, dey'ze gonna see you'ze easier," Kutfroat pointed out.

"Exactly!" Krakshot crowed with a glint in his eye "Yew see, dey'll be _expecting_ camouflage tanks, and dat's wot dey'ze gonna be looking for!"

There was a small silence as Kutfroat stared at Krakshot with disbelief.

"...E'ze a genius!" he shouted after a while, and Krakshot inspected his nails modestly, and brushed it against his chest.

"Alright, Fragnazz!" he announced, "We'ze got a job to do!"

Krakshot leaped onto the top of the Baneblade, pulled open the hatch, and jumped in, but Fragnazz remained behind.

"Der'z just one fing I needz to know before I go, I might never get the chance to ask again," he said solemnly "...Why do dey callz you Kutfroat?"

There was a small silence, again.

"Wuh-Wot?" Kutfroat eventually answered incredulously "Is yew serious? We just 'ad dis conversashun half an hour ago. _I cut people's froats._"

Fragnazz blinked twice, then asked.

"But, how d'yew get '_Kutfroat'_ outta '_cutting people's froats'. _S'not even gud grammar!" Fragnazz paused for a while, considering the ork in front of him. "I'ze gonna call yew '_Red'."_

"Why '_Red_'?" Kutfroat asked him.

"'_Why Red?_'" Fragnazz repeated with hilarity, looking around, inviting others to laugh with him. He smacked Spankinz off Kutfroat's shoulder in good-natured amusement.

"And yew fink '_Kutfroat_' makes sense! Hah! G'bye, Red!"

With that, Fragnazz followed his brother into the Baneblade.

Fragnazz seated himself at the drivers seat, and Krakshot examined the buttons rather labelled "weapons".

Fragnazz pressed a button to activate the radio, which allowed those outside to hear him.

"We'ze gud to go!"

The nearby orks scattered and began to make for the nearby trees and bushes for temporary cover, accidentally leaving Spankinz behind.

"Away we goez!" Fragnazz roared, pushing forward a lever, which cause the Baneblade to speed into reverse.

There was a barely noticably squishing sound as they ran over Spankinz, but the orks disregarded it.

"Oh, damn, I needz to go _forward_," Fragnazz muttered to himself, returning to first gear to it's original position, and pulling another.

The Baneblade sped forward, crushing once again the slowly rising Spankinz into the dirt.

"To da humie base!" Krakshot roared in delight.

"'Ang on!" Fragnazz said, looking at a screen which was being fed by a camera facing towards the rear of the Baneblade "We'ze run over Spankinz! We'ze gotta help 'im!"

The Baneblade reversed swiftly once again, running over Spankinz again with a sickening crunch.

"We'ze got no time!" Krakshot told Fragnazz "We'ze got to go! E'll be fine!"

"Right. I s'pose yew'ze right." His brother replied.

The tank sped forward, once again running over Spankinz, but this time the Baneblade continued onto the main gate of the Imperial Guard's Stronghold on Hermes 6.

* * *

_Joe: There we go, another chapter done. _

_Gromit: Okay, we need to ask you all something. Apart from the Space Marines, who do you want to come next, after the Imperial Guard?_

_Joe: It's kinda important. Well, we'll have to decide ourselves if nobody suggests anything, but where's the fun in that? C'mon, we accept anonymous reviews, just review and let us know._

_**Brought to you by...**_

_**PEPSI! THE TASTY, PORNOGRAPHIC BEVERAGE!**_

_**(Women in chorus): Pepsi, oh pepsi, you taste just like porn!**_


End file.
